Chocolate Cake
by TheLocket
Summary: Hermione Granger usually follows the rules -- usually. Sometimes, in desperation, she's forced to indulge in some chocolate cake. But this one time, Draco Malfoy happens to witness her caught with her hand in the cookie jar -- or finger in the frosting.


If there's one problem with being friends with two guys, it's what they don't get.

I quickly shut my textbook, hurriedly cramming my papers into my bag, ignoring the wrinkles and rips I was causing and the stares I was receiving from the two boys.

"Are you really giving up on your homework?" Harry asked sardonically, raising an eyebrow behind his famous glasses. I barely managed a sneer in response.

"Why could you want chocolate cake so bad?" Ron asked, his blue eyes locked on my hastened movements with confusion. Clueless. I rolled my eyes. Boys. I swept out the library to hear Ron's bewildered, "Why does she want cake?" Harry had the sense to not respond while I was in earshot; whether he guessed or not, I was unsure, but didn't want to wait around to hear. Couldn't.

I swear, sometimes I think I'm a hopeless addict and chocolate is my drug. My secret temptation. My ambrosia, my sin. As I walked down the hallways, I could smell the chocolate cake that every Thursday brought. I fairly began sprinting to the Common Room.

When Ginny saw me in my flustered, chocolate-deprived state, she snorted. I threw my bag onto the couch, not bothering to care if the papers fell out. I glared at her, and something in my appearance – whether it was my hair (which I had at one point during the day tied back in a bun and must have, by that point, been escaping the twist) or some other look in my eyes that made her stop laughing. Or rather, pretend that she did not find my actions amusing. Very unsuccessfully, might I add.

"Hermione," she chocked out between suppressed laughs, "you really need to stop this. It's not healthy."

I resisted the urge to lob a pillow from the couch at her, but instead swept from the Common Room with as much grace as I could manage.

When I finally made it to the kitchens, I almost had enough decency to be embarrassed when the elves – poor, enslaved creatures – bowed to me and welcomed me by name. Almost. But they knew better than to stay around; they quickly, and discreetly, moved to different rooms of the kitchens. I barely noticed.

Instead of following them, I passed through the first room, which was lined with highly polished coppery and silvery pans, hung high at my eye level. After ducking under a few errant pan-handles and spoons, I was able to push through the swinging, metallic, kitchen-style doors. The door stuck, leaving me no privacy, but I couldn't care.

Because inside that room, on top of a shelf on top of a counter, sat the giant, frosted, chocolate cake. The scent almost drove me insane.

But there was a slight problem. The stupid elves, I realized, had levitated it upwards, far out of my reach. The shelf covered that section of the counter, so that even if I managed to climb atop it, I wouldn't have a ledge to stand on. Stupid, stupid elves.

Of course, Hermione, you must be saying. If the elves can levitate a cake, you can too. It's first year magic, Hermione. Just use _Wingardium Leviosa_. Alright, perhaps you are right. And I was wrong. The scent wasn't almost driving me crazy – it was.

In my defense, I spent eleven years doing things the hard way – using chairs to reach the cookie jar, using hairpins to pick the pantry locks. So, I was able to spot a step-stool in the corner of the room. Instantly, I had it propped up against the counter. Hurriedly, I climbed the three small steps. If I strained my neck and looked upwards, I could see the giant cake that was easily larger than a wagon wheel. The heavenly smell dizzied me.

A burst of wind that brushed against my thighs reminded me that I was wearing a skirt, and, had an pesky elf snuck back into the kitchen, he or she could easily stare up my skirt. And I was reminded that I had chosen that day, of all days, to wear that pink lacy underwear a friend had gotten me on Valentine's Day as a joke. But, embarrassment was forgotten. Whatever social humiliation I may face if an elf stared up at my lingerie was unimportant.

Despite my precarious position – physically and socially – I stood on my tip-toes, straining to reach the cake. With the few additional inches, I was able to grasp onto the top of the shelf, on which the cake was placed.

"Naughty, Granger," came a voice. It was much too low to be coming from an elf, and something in the velvety tone made a shiver run down my spine.

Flushing in sudden embarrassment, I turned my head, careful to remain on my tip-toes to keep my purchase on the shelf.

Draco Malfoy was standing directly below me, and his eyes were not on my face, or even the cake. A sneaky grin played across his features as his evilly-glinting grey eyes flicked upwards to meet brown ones. And I became all-too aware of the skimpy, provocative undergarment I had foolishly chosen to wear.

"I mean," he elaborated, the teasing look never leaving his face, "I would have never figured that you would be the type to spoil such a perfect cake with your dirty, Mudblood hands."

I stared at him, raising an eyebrow, and dug a finger across the velvety, smooth frosting. His eyes flicked to my finger as I slowly licked the frosting off, enjoying the rich chocolate flavor almost as much as I enjoyed his reaction.

The grin was gone; he was scowling.

"Great, Granger," he spat out, "now you've gone and ruined a perfectly wonderful cake."

I snorted at his ridiculous response. Ignoring him, I used my wand to summon a knife that was hanging on the wall. True, it wasn't one that was suited to cutting cake – it was too long, too sharp. But I liked the suddenly nervous expression that flashed across his face. I laughed again, surprising myself with the malicious sound. After I had cut the slice, put it on a plate, and carefully placed the knife, plate, and slice of cake on the open counter far to my left (finally employing _Wingardium Leviosa_), I sighed and began to step down, ready to finally enjoy my chocolate fix.

"Hey." A hand wrapped around my ankle, the warm fingers and cold metal of a single ring uncomfortably touching my bare skin.

"What, Malfoy?" I snapped, my patience used up. When was I going to get to enjoy my chocolate cake? I could have hissed at him.

"Get me a piece," he replied. Was there a glint of humor in his gray eyes?

"Let go of me, Malfoy," I retorted. My order obviously didn't phase him, although his had affected my tone.

"Manners, Granger," he murmured silkily, but he released my ankle and stared pointedly at me. Grudgingly, I repeated the process, summoning another plate and levitating the knife once again to get him his own piece. All the while, I tried to ignore the prickling feeling of his eyes upon me. When I finally (and grumpily) climbed down the steps, I doubted the mischievous, delighted look in his eyes was due simply to the cake I was holding.

"Here," I said gruffly, shoving the plate in his face. Which was difficult, because he was a head taller than me. I grabbed my own plate, and a fork from the drawer (it was slightly depressing that I knew so well where everything was in the room). I had just sat down at the table, my fork poised atop the cake, when I heard the scrape of another chair being pulled up.

Draco turned it around and straddled the back of the chair, placing his cake across from mine on the small, round, wooden table.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I demanded harshly, springing up from my chair as though electrocuted.

He already had a fork full of the delicious chocolate in his mouth, so as he was unable to answer verbally, he held his hands up in a gesture of innocence, widening his gray eyes. I sighed, and tried very hard to control my temper. Once seated, I glowered at him for a moment. He seemed not to notice, carefully swirling his fork in the frosting and licking the utensil clean.

Finally, finally, finally, I turned my attention to my cake. The first bite was bliss. The second was better.

I was slowly licking the frosting off the fifth bite when I realized he was staring at me, his fork poised half-way to his mouth, which was open. His eyes watched me quizzically.

"What?" I demanded, slightly uncomfortable. "Have you never seen anyone eat cake before?" He stared for a moment, and then put the fork in his mouth. We watched each other for a moment.

"Like I said before, Granger," he replied, breaking the silence as he stood. Only then I realized that his plate was empty, scraped clean of almost all the frosting. "Naughty."


End file.
